


Wherever I May Roam

by ThisIsMyLegacy



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV), the originals - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark Kol Mikaelson, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, God Complex, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Murder, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, Internal Conflict, Jack the Ripper Murders, Narcissism, Psychological Drama, originally posted on twitter, series of One-shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyLegacy/pseuds/ThisIsMyLegacy
Summary: Series of one-shots based on the history of Kol Mikaelson as told on my roleplay account.
Kudos: 1





	1. Making Of A Monster

Most look at me and the things I have done and only see a man who was always a monster, but that truly was not the case. Monsters are made, not born. The way Niklaus is now, was not always who he was, and I made sure of that. Elijah and Rebekah believe that Mikael’s abuse after the death of our younger brother who was killed during a foolish mistake that Nik made. Only there are actually three sides to every story; the truth, the victim, and the accuser.

[[Flashback]]

The darkness makes us weary of our own breathing in this village where star-gazing was not an allowed thing. The time of day in which the sun sets, and the moon rises has always intrigued me, but my safety would be endangered if I ever attempted to experience it to its full extent. That is exactly what I did… Time and time again Mikael and Esther warned me and my siblings that there was more harm than good that came out of the night while we slept, but I refused to believe such a thing. How can a time of such peace and prosperity bring such darkness? There were beasts, they exclaimed; the beasts that claimed the moon and thrived off the unseen power that it held. That seemed to me to be an attempt for my parents to keep us out of mischief, never bothering to listen to the rumors that were told of families losing their kin to the dark ones that roamed throughout the night. As the fire dwindled away inside of our home and the breathing around me leveled out with everyone slipping into a deep slumber, I slip out of the cot I shared with my younger brother, Henrik. My attempts to not startle him are to no avail as he twists towards me with eyes pursed open in a drowsy stare.

“Kol? What are you doing up?”

My mind races with all of the possible excuses I could use in an attempt to put him back to sleep, while a voice within me whispers of how I could bring him along to experience the joy that none of our other siblings have ever had the honor of experiencing.

The whisper within grows into a scream, speaking in a low tone, “I am going to slay the beast, little brother. Would you like to join me?”

Henrik looks at me in utter disbelief, fear and curiosity clouding his features. “..-but Father said…”, cutting him off before he has a chance to continue with a finger raising to press to his lips.

“Father does not believe we are grown enough to go outside alone in the dark and that is it. What better way to prove to him then to show him just how strong we can me?”, mischief is well seen in the crooked grin that spreads across plump tiers, the thrill of such an adventure seeming to set my nerves aflame.

Henrik nods swiftly, the fear that had consumed his features is quickly replaced by determination, “We will show them that we are men too!”

It all seemed to be fun and games, the two of us sneaking out of the hut as the rest of our family slept peacefully, swiping one of Mikael’s spears as we creep quietly out the door. The crisp air hits my face with the fierce wind, stepping quietly through the sleeping village towards the forest that hid the supposed monsters. To me this was all going to be a game, similar to my older brothers sparring sessions; Henrik and I were going to slay the imaginary demons so my family could finally step out into the night without fearing for the consequences. Keeping my brother close to my side as we step past the threshold of trees, my heart begins to race at the extravagance that was to be seen as the moonlight leaked through the treetops to shine a white light on the ground below. Henrik’s breath catches in his throat, and as I look  
towards him there is a wide grin that floods his expression.

“Father is going to be so proud of us. We will soon replace Elijah’s and Nikaus’ seat at his side for dinner.”

Mimicking the wide grin, I shove him sideways to seek cover behind a large oak. Peeking around the tree, my head jots left to right in search for a beast that is nowhere to be seen; Henrik follows my actions, stepping with me further into the forest with no fear of the dark to be found any longer. This is where I belonged, and the stars above me shined brighter than they never had before with the light of the full moon; I was home, and the voice within my head sang sweet symphonies.

Halting to a stop as the sound of a snapping branch echoes throughout the night, my eyes widen as I look beneath the feet of both Henrik and myself only to see there is nothing to be found. In an instant my life is changed, adrenaline rushing through me as a hoarse growl rips into my ears; eyes widen as Henrik releases a sharp cry of pain, finding myself stumbling backwards in utter fear as my eyes land upon the precise thing that my father had warned us about. Falling sharply back into the ground, red is all I can see as a yelp rings through the air, until there is a hand grasping at my arm. Looking up to find the face of Niklaus, his words drowned out with the cries that were escaping Henrik’s mouth.

“Kol! Run! Go home!”

Struggling to lift myself from the ground, the vision before me causes my head to spin; a large animal on the ground with Mikael’s spear shoved into its sternum. Instincts take over, causing me barreling throughout the forest back towards our village with Niklaus and Henrik left behind. Rushing out of the trees towards our hut, I take a moment to breathe before cracking open the door to find the rest of my family still asleep during this impending crisis. Entering our home as quietly as I can, I rid myself of my outside clothing and climb back into the cot that Henrik and I had just left…

Sleep never came to me after that, only allowing myself to move as Niklaus rushes into the hut with a loud shout, “Father! Mother! It is Henrik, come.” Both lift themselves swiftly, jostling Elijah and Rebekah from their slumbers. It was all happening far too fast, being rushed from bed to see Henrik’s bloody form collected in Mikael’s arms, with Esther standing directly beside him with tears streaming violently down her cheeks. My family mourns as I simply stand and stare as if I have seen a ghost, Niklaus stepping quickly beside me to mumble harshly, “I took him out, Kol. You did not. Do not argue with me, or you will end up regretting it….”

[[End Flashback]]

There is reason Niklaus took advantage of that dagger every chance he got with me, for he knew that it was in fact me that created the monster within him. The demon, as I learned it to be, whispers in my ear each day that I am the cause of an eternity of misery for my entire family. Yet, try as I might, I find myself unable to regret ever stepping out into the night.


	2. They Call Me Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kol is Jack the Ripper.

Detesting normality was absurd in the year of 1888, England proving to be none less than a large ghetto of deprived men and frivolous women; thou shalt treat women with high levels of deference, even though they spent their nights lurking on the dark corners of the city streets. It was a land of sickening morals intensified with disease; each night as the men slipped into what little of a slumber their nonstop thoughts would allow, the women snuck out the front door. 

The sparse groups of feminists would look toward me in absolute disgust; gasp, how could a man have the cruelness than that of Kol Mikaelson? That would be if they knew my name. This is a land in which I remained invisible from the world, blending as much as my flawless demeanor would allow. To say I could walk down the street without a few heads turning would be a lie, and I took no shame in the mere thought that the neighborhood whores wanted nothing less than the best; stood before the mirror in my casual apparel with a hand smoothing out my hair, hazel toned brows hike skyward at the extravagant reflection staring back at me. 

The vision I am greeted with every time my eyes scale over my Victorian mirror sends a chill along my spine, how could anyone in their right mind not find the God they are granted the sight of an addiction? Yet when I walk down the street with such glorious purpose on one gloomy evening, the city roars past me without much of a second glance toward utter perfection; stopping at the corner of the street, my gaze wanders around my surroundings to catch the sight of two people (one man and one woman) sneaking into a back alleyway with mischievous intentions shown in their swift movements. I move back to lean against the faded crimson brick on a worn-down apartment building, my head bowed with my small pipe hat pulled over to conceal my gaze; I wait. The echoes of skin colliding and panting reaches my acute senses more clearly than that of a normal man, nearly an hour passes until the two bodies rustle to make themselves look appealing after their sinful affairs. 

The dark of the night intensified with the clouds hovering over what would be the full moon; a deep foreboding, I assumed, was what was shown in the vision above. The two ungodly lovers parted ways once outside the alleyway, rather pleased that the dark skinned woman made her way in my direction with ignorance of what was coming; stepping out before her to walk at a rather slow pace toward the corner of the street, lifting my gaze as we both stop to wait for the car to buzz down the street. The quietness of the street was rather eerie, the strangeness noticed by the woman as she shifts from one leg to the other before moving to cross the street in hopes of returning to whatever whorehouse she had taken comfort in; there was no way I was to allow such a woman to continue on, she must learn respect for the men surrounding her and save her virtue for those who matter.  
Darting out a hand to entrap her small wrist within my hold, my gaze finally locks onto her highly unappealing features; thin lips part to show a lacking of five teeth, fear flickers through her features before her world fades to black at the sharp collision with my hand to her jaw.

…

The day was Monday, November 19th, 1888 – the day of my fifth victim’s funeral. 

It was my own miniature version of a genocide of whores, I suppose you could say. Each one differentiating in their appearance but bleeding the exact same way, but this one was extravagant; standing roughly 5'6" tall, her hair flowing in golden locks that cascaded down her back as she undressed herself before me. This woman was different, she being the only one out of five that managed to strike a reaction from me; this would have been good if I was not who I spoke to be, holding no mercy towards those who begged for pleasure even as I plunge a knife deep within their lower torso. 

This one was different in the way she clenched so violently around me, the blue in her gaze electrifying even as they shone with terror; my knife was my only anchor, taking me away from the bliss that was threatening to build as the dulled blade carved beneath the rise of her breasts to cause a shriek of pain to rip from her body. This last victim was different in the way I allowed myself the pleasure of release before leaving her body to bleed, her physique drowned in blood from the forced removal of breasts and the eyebrows she had blatantly attempted to perfect; I had left the shack with a chunk of her golden hair held within my grasp, keeping it in my pocket for the last week to caress in remembrance of one of my greatest thrills. Offering my condolences to the family I had ripped the beautiful woman away from, shaking the hand of her Father even though her blood remained beneath my nails. 

It was 1888, how were they to know that I was the Devil in disguise? That as they looked into my eyes that it was the last thing their shame of a daughter had seen before fading away. After her my kills became sloppy, the torture far too kind; twelve more women bled on my hands, and each of them did nothing to satisfy the insatiable need I had to detest normality. 

In the age of deprived men and frivolous women, I, Kol Mikaelson prospered in the loss of corrupted and the rise of the innocent.


	3. Throne of Glass

The glass floor shook at the smallest footstep, yet it was guaranteed to hold the competition. The competition I was not to know about. Sabotage fit the crowned Prince well, but I never thought it would be targeted at me. 

"We both know that his assassin is skilled, Kol. All of these competitors are, do not let their looks deceive you," Chaol spoke in a lowered tone as he revealed my nomination for his victor in the Assassin's competition. 

My expression revealed raw fear, disguising the amount of amusement I was feeling over the whole situation. Did he honestly think I had anything to fear? Especially from the teenage girl, not just 'any' teenage girl. No, her beauty made all the men in court desire her, while all the ladies in waiting were eager to be her. This “girl” was one of the most feared assassins in the land, and the thought sends a small chill of excitement along my spine. I’d let her kill me. A sword through my chest; awakening on the cold cement of the morgue and sneaking into the young girls’ bedroom, surely to take her life in the darkened room, her last words a plea for life.

I never lost, but that was something the King’s court could never know. I had gained so much ground in the kingdom, I was eager to have the world know my name. 

Kol Mikaelson – the man who rose from his grave, the true Christ. 

“I understand, there is no one to trust here. Except you,” the slightest hint of sarcasm drips into my voice as I lean against the seemingly cool glass wall, mildly surprised as I notice just how warm the castle “walls” really are. 

I was told the castle was watched by the lord, he had blessed it and caused warmth to spread through the glass castle’s depths. I was not a damned fool though; I knew the illusion of Christ the world’s almighty savior was just that spread by lonely housewives who were eager to have hope that their husbands would allow them to live another day.

“Nikolai, are you alright?” Chaol’s voice broke through my wicked thoughts, shaking my head at the disgusting name he had spoken. 

“It is Kol, not Nikolai. Despite what the women of the pub say,” fighting to keep my expression blank, I move away from the unusual warmth of the glass wall, turning away from Chaol as I make my way down the long corridor leading to my bedchamber.   
The competition began as soon as dawn broke, I would then be alone to defend myself against the greatest “assassins” of the land. I did not fear the humans. Excitement was taking over with undying eagerness to destroy the so-called best. I would be their first target, the simple nobleman. I wanted nothing more than to sit upon the throne of glass, head held high as the whole Kingdom bowed at my feet. The power would be an inordinate hassle, but I’d thrive with it, nonetheless. 

Sliding myself out of my simple clothing, leaving me to stand before my large mirror completely nude, my chiseled abdomen was defined in the moonlight. I was not nearly as muscular as the other competitors, but I held more power than all of them combined. I may not have had a beating heart, but I was more alive than any of the fools could ever dream. Holding their lives in my palm without even touching their fragile bodies; killing without a regret as I would survive twenty of their lifetimes. 

Clearing my thoughts as the music of the crickets hit my ears and my back hits the mattress, my eyes slide shut as multiple scenarios for the day to come travel through my head, gradually the thoughts cause me to fade into a light slumber. 

Awoken by the bright dawn light flooding through my window, my eyes squint at the sudden shifting of my pupils from the lighting. Sliding my hand up to rub my still half closed and heavy eyes, a loud grunt escapes my lips from a sharp object colliding with my abdomen. Precisely as the object collides with my stomach my dark eyes widen to rest upon the rather large dagger that was protruding from my stomach. Growling hard at the sharp pain, I reach down and yank the dagger from my gut, the wound beginning to heal as soon as the dagger leaves my skin. 

To a normal man, my surroundings would seem normal, nothing out of character besides the bloodied knife in my hand. Except I was not a normal man and the rustling sounds coming from behind my drapery revealing the careless attacker.   
These were the expert killers I am supposed to be cautious of. This is child’s play.

Rising to my feet, uncaring that the assailant would obviously see me in the nude, I twirl the dagger around with my fingers pressing against the dagger’s cheek. 

“I admire your attempts, but I must admit that it was a bit sloppy… Next time – aim for the vitals, hm? Actually… There will not be a next time. Pity isn’t it? Lesson learned.”

My fingers run along the edge of the blade, pulling the remnants of my blood off with my touch. Raising my fingers to my lips, I slide one into my mouth and suck the already cooling blood from my abdomen, “Mm, I suppose I understand though. Kol Mikaelson, the weak would of course be your first target. I am just glad you didn’t take pity upon me.” 

The rustling behind the drapes becomes less apparent, but the heartbeat of the assassin escalates in pace quickly as if they finally realize there is something in fact to fear from the “powerless” Kol.   
After a few short moments I turn away from the window, wandering over to my large wardrobe to extract a pair of loose-fitting pants, I turn swiftly around to find the assassin standing rather awkwardly before me – their attempt to appear intimidating falling rather flat. 

He looks like a child; his hair ruffled sloppily around his head while his far too small vest fell awkwardly open. My lips part to allow an irritated sigh to escape as I could not find it within myself to kill a damned child, no matter how much the boy likely had on his hands. I am far from a good man, but even I refuse to kill a child. Resorting to the simpler of solutions, I blur abruptly forward and stare into the young boys’ eyes. Moments later after the compulsion had served it’s purpose, the boy was lying in a bloodied heap upon my floor. He’d done as I instructed and now the only blood on his hands was from his own body – the blade lodged firmly in his chest.

The evening went completely unexpected, only two more of the fourteen assassins bothering to grace me with their presence. They of course ended in a mess with the young boy who I had shoved nonchalantly into the corner of my bedroom; kicked back with a book, a bottle of red wine grasped in my hands. It was beyond uneventful to me, waiting for more pathetic humans to come after me, all to sit upon the throne of glass for one glorious moment.   
Was the wait and boredom worth it? 

“Dorian was right, you are surprising. Kol, right?” 

My gaze widens as I hear the feminine tone, looking up to find the petite blonde form of the assassin who I presumed to be known as Celaena. Running a fingertip along the rim of my wine glass, the quiet whistle it creates becoming rather soothing. Standing from the bed, my arms slide slowly across my chest, arching a brow in utter amusement at Celaena’s failed attempt at small talk. 

“Tell me, sweetheart. Do you believe in God?” Tone of voice turning slightly gruff as the words escape my lips, stepping slowly forward until I stand directly in front of the young woman's form. The way her body remains calm at my approach is mildly impressive, considering her heart rate; tilting my head to the side as my eyes travel along her petite figure. 

There was a confidence in her stance, and I find myself amused over the thought that she genuinely believed she was going to emerge victorious, that she was going to have her chance to sit upon the throne of glass. 

“I’ve been imprisoned for over a year now. ‘God’ did nothing to rescue me, even with the claims to love all his children. Why would I believe in something that useless to me? I am the only person I can trust.” Something about this woman manages to catch my eye, perhaps it was the way she managed to remain calm even as I approach her. Such strength… Such pride. It was so rare to come by, the idea causing my tongue to dart out across my bottom lip. My gaze becomes firm as I lock her eyes with my own, pupils dilating as I speak in a hypnotizing tone. 

“You’d like to ascend the throne of glass, so you will. Shove your sword into my chest and let them take my body away. Take your seat upon the throne, but only for a moment. I’ve heard many things of you, darling. They stole from me too, but we will take it back – together.” There is nothing left to say, and as the beautiful blonde’s blank facial expression clears the sharp pain of a sword being shoved through my chest radiates through me. I am far from dead, but as I fall to the floor with a heart that does not beat, and no breath, the world stands still. 

For a fleeting moment, a ghost of a smile appears on my face – imagining the reaction of the world as the throne of glass shatters under their hold.


End file.
